


The Glasshouse

by peevee



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Curtain Fic, M/M, Tharkay's mysterious estate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peevee/pseuds/peevee
Summary: Temeraire soon found that he took great pleasure in flying amongst the mountains, now that he was not fleeing for his life or preparing himself for war. The Cairngorm plateaux was itself dwarfed by the grand massifs of the Himal, or the forbidding serrated peaks of the Karokaram, and yet, as Temeraire swooped through the great pass of theLairig Ghruhe felt quite insignificant, a speck amongst sleeping giants.
Relationships: William Laurence/Tenzing Tharkay
Comments: 20
Kudos: 84





	The Glasshouse

**Author's Note:**

> It pains me to say that I did take some liberties with the size of glass panels that were likely to have been available in the early 19th century. I did go down a deep Wikipedia spiral on glass tax and window tax, but you'll be glad to know I've spared you from such excitements here.
> 
> Temeraire's description of Kanchenjunga is partially lifted from an account by Francis Younghusband, published in 1926.

Temeraire and Laurence arrived at Dalmore House at the tail end of summer. In Scotland, this meant long, cool evenings, the air filled with the tiny biting insects that had so plagued the men at Loch Laggan. Temeraire had negotiated a parcel of time before he was to present himself at Parliament so as to settle into his new home, and had at once set to constructing a suitable pavilion, choosing for himself a secluded area of mossy ground surrounded by the reddish pine trees that seemed to be native to the area. The pavilion was to be properly heated and shielded from the worst of the elements; Temeraire never again intended to feel the cold to his bones the way he had in the winter before Napoleon’s defeat. 

The estate spread expansively to the south of the Cairngorm mountains, with a large, flat-based glen at the approximate centre. The house itself was set pleasantly on an open, grassy lawn, dotted with a number of mature trees of which Temeraire did not know the type, but which certainly looked well with their large spreading leaves and glossy brown nuts hanging heavy from their branches . A thin ribbon of glistening river snaked along the south side of the glen; Tharkay assured them that it made for good fishing of salmon and speckled brown trout. There was even a shallow pool, carved out by time, in which Temeraire might bathe when he pleased, though there was nobody to scrub his scales. 

Temeraire soon found that he took great pleasure in flying amongst the mountains, now that he was not fleeing for his life or preparing himself for war. The Cairngorm plateaux was itself dwarfed by the grand massifs of the Himal, or the forbidding serrated peaks of the Karokaram, and yet, as Temeraire swooped through the great pass of the _Lairig Ghru_ he felt quite insignificant, a speck amongst sleeping giants. In China, Temeraire had once flown near enough to glimpse that most famous mountain _Kanchenjunga_ , had been spellbound as his gaze was drawn up through tiers upon tiers of dark forest-clad ranges, through layers of drifting cloud til every jagged pinnacle was clad in glittering white and seemed almost to be part of the sky itself. 

“It is more than five miles high,” Tharkay had told him. “The air at the summit so thin that your wings would not support you.”

It sounded a savage place. Colder than a Russian winter, with enormous gelid rivers of ice and snow that spilled from the peaks. Tharkay explained that they flowed like water, but over years instead of minutes, gouging at the mountainsides as they moved. 

In Scotland, the mountains welcomed him, as rounded as polished river stones, with great scoops taken out of them as if by the hand of a giant. Only in the northern corrie of the hulking _Braeriach_ did snow lie year-round, and it often served to cool him pleasantly after a flight. Portions could be hacked off and transported back to Dalmore, where the kitchen staff would pack it into the brick-lined ice pit that served as a storage house for game.

They had been there scarcely two weeks when Laurence sought him early one afternoon as he was dozing upon his newly-laid foundations, freshly returned from a morning’s flying.

“Oh, Laurence, hello,” Temeraire said, blinking sleepily. “Do you require my help?”

Tharkay’s relatives had indeed left the fine house and it’s contents in a dreadful state. Temeraire had peered through the windows, blackened with dirt and soot, and had observed the wreck of smashed china and torn paintings with an outrage that Tharkay did not match. “I have not the heart to hold on to any ill will,” he had said, upon Temeraire’s exclamation. “I had expected even less, truth be told. Some of the furniture is quite intact.”

Laurence had immediately set to assisting him, and carts made their way back and forth daily from the sawmill at Corriemulzie, along with a passel of eager young workers who gawped and whispered at Temeraire in hushed Gaelic, and scattered when he approached. Temeraire found the language strangely captivating in its melodious ugliness, but so far had not been successful in tempting any of them to read to him. He had lent some assistance, but as most of the work was to be done within the house itself, found that he was limited in his usefulness. 

“Yes, my dear,” said Laurence. “The glass has arrived with only one pane shattered, so we may begin.”

Temeraire stretched and yawned, then held out his foreleg for Laurence to climb. He no longer wore a harness, just his breastplate and talon sheaths, which he had taken to polishing before he slept so that he might awaken to see the sunlight glittering upon his claws. He took to the air in an easy leap, once Laurence was situated behind his ruff. The day was pleasantly warm, and the wind, it seemed, had mercifully eased enough for the panes for the new glasshouse to be transported safely from the port at Aberdeen. They came upon the house quickly, and Temeraire made his landing near an unfamiliar dragon, a young malachite reaper with dominant green markings across his face. The reaper’s captain was in conversation with Tharkay, both of them gesturing towards a large open box that was set upon the lawn. Laurence hopped from Temeraire’s shoulder and hurried to join them. 

“Hello,” said the reaper. “I am Silvanus. You must be Temeraire! Captain McLeod is a great admirer of yours.”

“I am glad to make your acquaintance,” said Temeraire. “The glass was not over-heavy for you, I hope?” Silvanus was one of the slighter reapers Temeraire had seen; certainly he was far smaller than Celeritas. He could not have been over 10 tonnes, but he was lean and well-muscled. 

“Oh, assuredly not,” Silvanus preened. “I am barely fatigued. But, ah, I did happen to see some fine looking deer as we were landing…” He trailed off a little hopefully. 

“Oh!” said Temeraire, “do excuse my lack of manners. Of course, you may take a deer, as you please.” He was sure Tharkay would not have any reason to mind. Silvanus leaped gracefully into the air and out of sight behind a copse of pine that flanked the house, and Temeraire turned his attention to the men on the grass, who seemed to have come to an agreement about the broken pane. 

“Temeraire, come, let me introduce you to Captain McLeod.”

“The great beast himself!” exclaimed McLeod. “I am honoured, indeed!” He made a large, sweeping bow at Temeraire’s feet. McLeod was of a height with Laurence, but there the similarities ended. He had a large dark beard that more closely resembled the nest of a large bird than hair, and despite his otherwise neat appearance it gave him an air of wildness that was only exacerbated by his exuberance.

“I have invited Captain McLeod to join us for supper,” said Laurence. “The day is mild; I thought we might dine at your pavilion, Temeraire?”

“Oh, but it is barely even begun!” Temeraire said. “Though the aspect is very fine, I suppose.”

“Only with your approval of course, my dear.” Laurence patted Temeraire’s flank. He turned to Tharkay. “Tenzing, did I hear you remark upon a serviceable bench in the stables? A fine table for our purposes, I think.”

“Oh, well,” said Temeraire. “I suppose it should be rather lovely to eat together. A dinner party! Though next time I should like some time to prepare, Laurence.”

“My apologies, of course,” said Laurence, smiling. “I am sure our guests can forgive us, given the short notice.”

“Quite, quite,” said McLeod. “Supping with the great Temeraire himself! Why, you could serve nothing but porridge and water and I would be satisfied.

“I am quite sure we will manage better than porridge,” said Temeraire firmly. He looked to Tharkay, who was watching the conversation with his familiar lopsided smile. “Are we to begin the glasshouse?”

“Indeed,” said Tharkay, “and though I have assured the men that you are not in the least inclined to devour them, they remain unconvinced. Would you talk to them?”

“Oh!” said Temeraire. “Devour them! Why on earth should they think such a horrid thing?”

“They haven’t ever seen a dragon like you,” said Tharkay gently. “You are strange to their eyes, but in my experience they will warm quickly with conversation.”

Temeraire looked to Laurence, but he was already deep in discussion with McLeod about some new development in the Admiralty. Tharkay beckoned him, and he followed to the rear of the house, where he could hear the fellows talking and laughing amongst themselves. The sound of their voices trailed off as soon as Temeraire rounded the eastern wing. He flattened himself deliberately towards the ground and lowered his ruff. 

“Hello,” he said. “I am Temeraire. I believe we are to be workmates; It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

There was more silence. A small bird flew out from the eaves of the house, and several of the men jumped visibly at the noise. Temeraire swallowed an impatient sigh.

“What are your names?” he asked, keeping his voice low and even. There was another pause as the men shifted awkwardly, looking to one another. One gave his neighbour a little push. 

“C-Calum,” the lad stammered, as he stumbled forward. His eyes widened as they traveled up Temeraire’s snout to meet his gaze. 

“I am delighted to meet you, Calum.”

The fellow who had pushed Calum didn’t lift his eyes, but he did raise his hat from his brow and murmured _Malcolm_ almost too softly to be heard. Then, one by one, the others named themselves. Duncan. Donald. Stuart. Another Malcolm, this one with a bright shock of red hair like Harcourt. Tharkay remained by Temeraire’s side, a hand resting on his foreleg. 

The nervous atmosphere broke truly as soon as Temeraire enquired about the means of moving the glass. Two of the lads broke out into a squabble over who would fetch the harness they had designed that was to be looped around the pane and hooked over his claws, and, duly retrieved, they hurried to lay it at his feet for inspection. 

Temeraire picked it up curiously. It was well made, of strong leather strips with shining brass buckles, and looked to have been partially fashioned from pieces of bridle.

“This is very fine indeed,” he said. “I believe it shall serve us admirably.”

At this proclamation, there broke out a dispute over who had come up with the design, and who had done the best stitching. Tharkay leaned in close. 

“That was very neatly done,” he murmured, then he clapped his hands to bring the group to attention. The cast-iron skeleton of the glasshouse already stood in position. It was of a middling size, nothing like the great crystalline conservatories of the more southerly stately houses, but nevertheless magnificent, Temeraire thought. The panes individually barely weighed more than a man, and the harness made uncomplicated work of lifting them, but the delicacy of getting them into place safely made it a fraught business. By the time Tharkay called a halt to their work, the men were sweating and red and Temeraire could have eaten a whole deer, so ravenous was he. He untangled himself from the leather straps and made a short flight to the river, where he could submerge his snout and drink deeply. 

-

Though Silvanus had eaten a full deer upon his arrival, his appetite that evening seemed unaffected. He had at first nosed a little hesitantly at the bowls of stew, rich in gravy and fatty, fragrant venison, but soon began to devour the meal with all the grace of a newly-hatched feral. The kitchen staff at Dalmore had quickly adjusted to cooking for the large new addition to their household, though they were reluctant to spice the dishes the way Temeraire preferred. He wondered again if Gong Su might not be persuaded to join them; surely he could not have anything so important to do in China other than to serve a prince of his country! He resolved to appeal to Laurence before the month was out.

“For what purpose is the glass building?” said Silvanus, when he had finished licking gravy from the bowl. The three men were talking amongst themselves, gathered as they were around the makeshift dining table. It looked rather well, set prettily with delicate china and wildflowers, and though Temeraire might have wished for a grander setting for his first dinner party, he allowed that it was indeed a fine thing to dine with company.

“It is to house plants and trees,” said Temeraire.

“Why, there are a great many trees here already!” said Silvanus. “Why should they need any more? And it is so small, how is a tree to fit?”

“There are many plants that will not grow here, due to the cold winters,” explained Temeraire. Laurence had answered his own questions on the matter not a week previous. “Tharkay is desirous of oranges and lemons for the kitchen; their trees are suitably small for the size of it. And it is a fine thing to have a glasshouse, is it not?”

“Oh, very fine,” agreed Silvanus dubiously. “Though I do not see the appeal of fruit.”

Temeraire, too, did not understand the need of such expense for the sake of oranges. He had tried one, and found it bitter and unpleasant. Tharkay seemed to find great pleasure in the construction of the little building, though, and so Temeraire could not find fault in it. 

Presently, Captain McLeod declared that it was time for them to leave again for Aberdeen if they were to reach the city with daylight remaining. He was a little in his cups, but managed with only some stumbling to climb Silvanus’ harness and clip himself in. 

“A fine evening!” he said, “I have been honored to make your acquaintance, Mr. Laurence, Mr. Tharkay, Temeraire. I hope this shall not be our last meeting.”

“I should certainly not be opposed to joining you for supper again,” said Silvanus, casting his eye a little wistfully over what remained in Temeraire’s bowl. 

“Once my pavilion is completed, I will host a proper party,” said Temeraire, unwilling to leave his guests with the impression that all his hospitality extended to was a hastily prepared stew. “With a great many fine dishes.” Perhaps by then he might have persuaded the cooks on the necessity of strong spicing. 

Silvanus sprang lightly into the air with an unusual grace for a dragon of his size, and from his back they saw McLeod give a jaunty salute. 

“A pleasant fellow,” said Laurence, when they had disappeared from view. 

“Would that all our company were so agreeable,” said Tharkay, though he was smiling. The Laird of their neighbouring estate had been most ill-natured on the question of Tharkay’s inheritance. Temeraire had half a mind to pay him a visit, though Laurence had advised him against it. 

“Tenzing will not easily be accepted here,” he had said. “We must ease his way, as we can.”

“I do not understand the ways of men,” Temeraire had said, frustrated. The estate had been so long-neglected. Here Tharkay was to pick up the pieces, and still he encountered resistance at every turn from those who were less than his equal.

“I cannot fault you in that,” Laurence had replied. “We are illogical, petty creatures.”

The evening lengthened, the sky dimming to a dusky pink, then shades of hazy blue. Temeraire, belly full, dozed lightly as Laurence and Tharkay supped wine and discussed the planting of orange trees. 

“The construction should be completed by midmorning,” said Tharkay. “The harness worked remarkably well, I must thank Temeraire properly for his assistance.”

“You need only give him a glittering trinket and he will build you ten glasshouses,” said Laurence. Temeraire whipped his tail lightly, but he was too content to raise any opposition. He slitted his eyes open and watched as Tharkay reached into one of the pockets of his cloak and retrieved an orange, large and gleaming in the lamplight. 

“And what sort of trinkets do you require,” he said, digging his thumb through the thick peel. Temeraire smelled a burst of sharp oily fragrance as Tharkay halved the orange neatly and passed the rest to Laurence.

“You know I need nothing from you, Tenzing,” said Laurence quietly. He took half of the offered orange, and pulled a segment from it, holding it loosely in his hand.

As Temeraire watched, Tharkay stood suddenly, stepping away from Laurence. Laurence dropped the orange segment and followed him, his hand coming up to Tharkay’s shoulder to pull him around.

“Will--” Tharkay began, but he was prevented from saying anything more as Laurence leaned forward to press their mouths together, his hand coming up to hold Tharkay’s face. Temeraire closed his eyes, feeling something of a sneak, like he was witnessing something that Laurence would have preferred him not to see. 

A breath, a silence, and then--

“Do you see?” said Laurence. Another pause, longer this time. “I require no incentive, Tenzing. Nothing, to stay here with you.”

“Yes,” said Tharkay, after a little while longer. “Yes, Will, I see.”

“There is no need to smirk at me,” said Laurence. “Come, let us leave Temeraire to his slumber.”

Temeraire held himself very still as they shifted, extinguishing the lamps and no doubt leaving the makeshift dining room in disarray. He waited until their voices had drifted towards the house, before he settled himself more comfortably, the warm night and the soft noise of the river lulling him. The smell of oranges still hung in the air, and soon Temeraire fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.


End file.
